


Green, Jealousy is Thy Name

by xxELF21xx



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Jealousy, Jiuniang is Done, Love Confessions, M/M, Metaphors, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Orange Juice almost kills someone, Pancake is having none of Omurice's shit, Protective Siblings, Spaghetti is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: He's not jealous.He'snot.





	1. Staring

**Author's Note:**

> if i have to tank omupudding by myself then so be it.

Ever since Jello had been summoned, things were a lot more hectic around the restaurant. The lines were longer,  _everyone_ wanted to have a peek at the idol, maybe even be lucky enough to snap a photo of her! The restaurant crew had to pile all hands on deck,  _and then some._ Coffee and Chocolate had to be called back from the main team to help out, causing much dissent from Bamboo Rice, who got stuck with Boston Lobster and Peking Duck as replacements. 

'It'll only be for a few days,' Black Tea reasoned, trying to stop Bamboo Rice from attacking Boston Lobster, 'besides, if any of them bother you, then the worst that could happen was for none of them to be healed.' Milk had given a conspiratory smile, eyes blank as always, 'please calm down, Bamboo.' Omurice had feared that the wild man would start a fight on restaurant grounds, but it seemed like the promise Black Tea had made was enough to satiate him, much to the other two's chagrin. 

Jiuniang, who was called back from the exploration team, looked worse for wear, the ends of her hoodie stained with soup and other food bits. 'Omurice, table... ' She mumbled tiredly, stumbling into the kitchen. Alarmed, he held her steady, a reprimand on his tongue, when Pudding had arrived, with  _Jello_ hot on his heels. 'Jiuniang, Master Attendant has requested you go take a break,' his voice was monotonous as always, causing a spike of irritation to shoot up his spine. 

'I'll take her there,' he declared, whisking the both of them away before judgemental gold eyes could even glance at him. Jiuniang gave him a flat stare, icy eyes burning into his cheek, 'ah, don't look at me like that!' He pleaded, pouting for good measure, Jiuniang rolls her eyes, pinching his cheek painfully before letting go. 'I can go on my own,' her voice is fatigued, and she looks like she's about to topple. Omuruce frowns, 'yeah, and what happens if you faint midway? Yellow Wine won't be happy to hear about how nobody helped you when you were tired.' At the mention of the older Food Soul, she relents, leaning into him and letting him take the lead. 

He tries to ignore the piercing stare burning into his neck. 

When he goes back to the restaurant, he's awestruck to find Jello covering for him, running around with a giant smile on her face as she delivers food, laughing at whatever joke Pancake was yelling from across the room. He himself stifles a laugh, taking an order and dashing into the kitchen to greet Hawthorne Ball before snatching two portions of risotto and making himself scarce. Jello's presence was enough to keep him going, nevermind his fatigue! He hears Coffee murmur something about a picky customer as he drops his orders off, collecting dirty dishes from the surrounding tables. 

'Omurice! Could you help me out?' Coffee shouts, pretending to faint while pointing at a customer,  _I don't know what he wants!_ He mouths, a finger to his temple. He laughs, giving a mock salute, 'Omurice, to the rescue!' Jello giggles, watching the interaction with a soft look on her face, causing him to burn up in embarrassment as he runs off to deal with the annoying customer. 

Sharp gold eyes follow him the whole time, causing the discomfort to increase tenfold. 

'Do you need help?' Pudding blocks off his path, a small frown on his lips. 'Huh?'  _Since when did he get here?_ 'Are you looking down on me, you jerk?!' He can't help the anger simmering low in his belly, narrowing his eyes to challenge the other blond. Pudding sniffs, taken aback, 'I- no, it just looked like you needed some help.' The anger starts steaming, he shoves Pudding away violently, storming past him, 'even if I do need help, it'll never be from  _you!'_  

Omurice doesn't wait for a reply. 

'Pudding? Are you okay?' Jello shouldn't be  _concerned_ for the glasses-jerk! It's not fair that those two are so close! Pancake stares at them, dark red eyes losing their spark for a moment, confused. 'I'm alright, sorry for making you worry, Jello.' Jello lights up, skipping away happily. 

Omurice can only glare at the floor. 

 

'Hey,' Pancake approaches him, the midnight moon bright and high, the number of customers has trickled down significantly, leaving only two or three elderly slowly munching on their noodles, 'not to be nosy or anything, but- ' he waves his hands around, biting into a pancake nervously, '- you look really tired nowadays, y'know?' He mumbles, words muffled by the food in his mouth. 

Omurice grunts, downing another freshness potion. Master Attendant would be livid if they found out that he hasn't taken a proper break in  _days,_ but the restaurant was shorthanded, he wasn't going to be selfish and take breaks! 'Yeah, well, it's been really busy these days.' Pancake gives him a weird look, his eyes flashing between sad and understanding. The boy offers up a piping hot pancake, which Omurice accepts graciously, letting the warmth melt him a little. 

He can feel his fatigue catch up to him but ignores it in favour of savouring the red bean filling.

'Don't mean you gotta tank it all on your own, we're a team!' Pancake hisses, holding a threatening finger up. Omurice huffs, clearly sulking, 'when Sandwich comes back from exploring, I'll rest.' Pancake's glare hardens, they both know that the exploration team won't be back until the next week. Just as he was about to continue chiding Omurice, Jello bounds towards them, energetic as always. 

'Omurice! Pancake! Have you guys taken a break yet?' She cuddles into her jacket,  _the jacket that was always in Pudding's hands,_ smiling at them softly. Pancake reports that, yes, he just got out of the ice arena while Omurice remains silent, wondering why Pudding relinquished his hold over the article of clothing. Mismatched eyes turn confused when he gives no answer, 'Omurice...?' 

He glances at the potion bottle hidden in his pocket, throwing her a fragile smile, 'yep! Besides, with Jello around, I'm always energised!' The idol flushes a bright pink; while this sight would've sent him into overdrive before, all he feels now is the mild discomfort, and a little disgust, at the base of his throat. Pancake sends him a  _look,_ unimpressed and shocked, 'Jello, how about you leave this to us?' The boisterous boy quips, pinning Omurice with a  _what's wrong with you?_ stare. Jello voices her concerns, but a quick reassuring smile from the both of them has her reluctantly going upstairs for the night. 

'Are you  _sure_ you're alright?' Red eyes search for any weird signs but finds none.

'I'm fine,' he replies. 

The empty potion bottle drops onto the ground, shattering into splinters. 

 

Coffee and Chocolate are assigned back onto the main team, leaving  _Spaghetti_ and Orange Juice to cover them. Omurice is thankful that neither of them bothers to ask about the dark eye bags or the way he's tripping over his feet. Pancake grits his teeth and moves on, Jiuniang only frowns. Jello isn't around, either.

'Omurice~' Orange calls out, a plate of cucumber salad in her hands; her smile is wicked, like molten danger, 'time for lunch!' He perks up, stacking plates precariously atop each other. 'Coming!' He walks slowly, putting on a show so that his partner that he's alright. Orange's lips tick up in a knowing smile as she sets the plate down, 'you haven't been to the arena in a while, Omu.' There's a drop in her tone, signalling her disappointment, but he shrugs it off in favour of food. She watches him eat, petting his hair as he rants on and on about the different customers he's faced during the day; basking in the warmth of her laughs and grins. She sprinkles a few sparks of flames onto him, causing him to squawk and sputter indignantly. 

'That's what you get for pulling all-nighters,' she chides, ruffling his hair and making it even messier. He complains, swatting the hand away, but smiles brighter than he ever did in a while.

He ignores gold eyes digging into his skin, scorching the back of his neck.

Spaghetti fusses over something, leaning over Omurice's chair and stealing a bite of food, causing a scuffle between the two of them; before Omurice is called for an order again. 'Don't steal my food, jerk!' Spaghetti sneers, taking a particularly large bite in retaliation, causing him to bark out a laugh. 

His good mood lasts for all of five seconds and sours the moment he bumps into Pudding's chest, his vest buttons scratching against his cheeks. His smile falls into a scowl, 'what do you want?' Pudding looks down at him, an indecipherable expression on his face. 'Nothing. You should watch where you're going.' His voice is plain and flat, like he was talking to a wall. 

 _Ah, there it is again._ The weird pang of hurt that always strikes him whenever Pudding speaks like that. It was never  _this_ strong, though; he can't breathe right, his world is tilting under his feet. Orange Juice and Spaghetti jump out of their chairs, shouting as Omurice feels himself slipping into darkness.

 

He doesn't know what he's expecting, really, when he wakes up for the first time in about two weeks. Glimmering orange clears into something resembling angry ombre. The always smiling Orange Juice is vehemently glaring at him, frustration rolling off her in waves. Disappointment floors him,  _I wanted something else..._

'Why didn't you rest sooner, Omurice?' She's visibly fuming, arms crossed stiffly. He swallows, wincing at how dry his throat was, turning away.  _I made her cry... good job, Omurice._ 'I thought I could handle it,' he murmurs. Someone else sighs, slumping down on the floor, he blinks tiredly, watching the red mass sharpen into Spaghetti. A sharp thrill of shock unravels in his mind, 'why are you here?' He can't help but ask. 

The king snorts, slouching, 'I can't have anyone commit murder, can I? Who do you think stopped Orange Juice from killing Pudding?' It takes a while for the words to register, and when they do, he sits bolt upright; static blinding him. 

'What are you doing?!' Orange nearly screams, while Spaghetti scrambles up to help. 'What did you do to him?' He's breathless and afraid, knowing full well that Orange can and  _will_ kill anyone that upset him. Spaghetti wraps his hands around Omurice's head, cradling him close to his chest. 'Hey, hey, calm down; he's alright, he's alright.' 

A warm hand ruffles his hair, while a slightly colder one holds his hand in a death grip.

There is a glare directed at him, but Omurice is still too disoriented to figure out where it was from.


	2. Calculating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pudding comes to a revelation, and he's not sure what to make of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys blew my mind with the positive feedback!! tysm! <3

Omurice was acting as if that incident from a week ago hadn't happened. 

Apart from the pompous king sticking to his side like a leech constantly, the blond was running around the restaurant, babbling away and bringing cheer to the rowdy restaurant. Pudding frowns, the jacket tied to his waist weighing him down more than usual, 'this is odd... ' He mutters, pushing his glasses up in an attempt to calm himself down. 'Right?' Hawthorne chirps, dusting her hands free of wheat flour, 'I've heard that Spaghetti isn't the nicest around here, yet he acts meek and childish in front of Omurice.' 

Pudding feels alarm rising through him, 'oh?' He steps into the kitchen, taking his station next to her, waving Skewer to the ice arena. 'Yeah, I heard Brownie muttering something about keeping B-52 away from the king a while back, and Master Attendant filled me in on the ah... horrors he caused. Won't call him a good person, really.' A new menu is passed around, causing him to wander deeper into the kitchen to get the ingredients for mango pudding. 'He seems much calmer now, don't you think?' He mindlessly asks, a sudden irritation flashing through him as Spaghetti steals Omurice's attention again, eliciting a playful shriek from the boy. 

What was with him and his emotions? This is highly unprofessional of him. 

Hawthorne hums, placing her dish into the ovens, 'he does, but there's still a fear that he might... you know,' she shrugs; 'he might turn on us.' Spaghetti wasn't summoned by Master Attendant, but was bought through the Attendant's guild, there was a high chance he would be the first to rebel if unhappy. 'In the battlefield, I don't trust him to have my back,' she continues, glaring at Pancake stealing a plate of food, 'but for now, as long as he behaves, I'll keep quiet.' 

He forgets that Hawthorne Ball was one of the Attendant's first Food Souls, so the attachment must be particularly strong. She was on a different level compared to the other food souls, stronger and more resilient, tougher and firmer in her beliefs about Master Attendant. Hawthorne rarely left the restaurant, preferring to look after the establishment when she can, leaving only when the Attendant insisted. When the Attendant left with Olivia and Ichi, she was fiercer, giving her all to ensure that the restaurant could run normally even in the absence of its owner. 

He has no doubt that she is more than capable of tearing Spaghetti down if she wanted to.

'I don't really know why you guys are doubting him,' Pancake trudges in, slamming a tower of dirty dishes into the dishwasher, 'he's proven himself by staying by the Attendant's side, hasn't he? Sure, he may be a jerk and snotty, but you don't see him threatening anyone seriously anymore, do you?' The teen's maple red eyes stare directly into Pudding's ownhoney gold, 'I mean, at least he doesn't behave like an ass in front of Omurice.' 

The accusation sears a mark into his skin, melting it down and scarring over. 'What... ' Hawthorne murmurs, giving the both of them sceptical looks, hands wringing the folds of her apron worriedly. Pancake's glare doesn't waver, sharp and terrifying, 'if you don't want to make Omurice upset, stay away from him.' He leaves, storming out the kitchen and running past the doors of the restaurant, the heavy words collapsing on top of Pudding. 

The next person to take Pancake's place is Boston Lobster, which made him grind his teeth. 'Why did they think that having Boston around would make things easier,' he huffs, watching the hotheaded man squabble with Omurice over a trivial matter.  _This is irritating, I want to leave._ This place was turning into a child's playground of activity. Angrily, he dishes out the last of his orders, immune to the gears turning in Hawthorne's head. 

'Omurice!' He barks, swinging the kitchen doors a little hard, 'to the kitchens!' Pudding doesn't leave him with a choice, dragging him by the back of his collar and shoving him to the cooking station. Omurice's eyebrows furrow, muttering an  _"understood"_ and went uncharacteristically silent, suddenly too invested in his work. Hawthorne sends him a threatening look, a hand on her butcher's knife, 'there was no need to be so rough, boy.' 

He winces, retreating into the soft lights of the restaurant, ignoring the looks from Spaghetti and Boston. Something strange was overwhelming him, it makes his heart thunder and his blood freeze, his muscles and senses won't work properly; his mind is muddled with spotty thoughts, churning and spinning in different directions that leave him confused and flustered. 

Everything suddenly became too much, too little. 

Spaghetti approaches him, staring down at him with cherry red eyes, something like cruel amusement shining behind a curtain of red hair, 'you caused quite a scene, Mr Pudding,' his soft voice is mocking, a taunt that causes him to react violently. He jerks his head back, stumbling to put more distance between them, 'I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm just tired.'

The king sneers at him, malicious, grinning wide with sharp teeth; 'ah, then you won't mind me taking him, then? I'll take better care of him than you ever will.' 

 

When he steps into the ice arena, he finds Omurice dozing off in a corner, headphones blasting Jello's latest album at full volume. His lips curl up in concern,  _his ears will fall off,_ he thinks, moving slowly on the slippery surface to get closer to the blond. His fingertips brush against pillowy soft hair, curling around strands of soft heaven, noting the rougher ends. Pudding thinks he can stay like this for a while, just carding his fingers through his hair-- 

A melodic jazz emits from the headphones, snapping him out of his daze. 'Since when did he...' Pudding stares at the sleeping figure, discomfort churning in the pits of his stomach. Jazz was something  _Spaghetti_ preferred. Clicking his tongue, he hastily gets up, sliding over to the potions cabinet and downing several small ones in quick succession, dropping the bottles into the bin and escaping the chilling cold of the arena.  _Omurice always ruins my good mood,_ he gripes, steam fuming from his ears.

'Do you really like him?' Orange Juice's cheery voice is dripping with toxin. Pudding pauses in his tracks, spotting the king talking with an irritated-looking Orange. Her usually soft, mellow features are sour and sharp, stinging to the eyes and bitter. Spaghetti leans on the wall, head hung in shame; his pompous attitude was replaced with something Pudding couldn't identify. 

No, he  _knows_ what it is. He just doesn't want to admit it.

The discomfort punches him in the gut, his throat closes up on him, forcing him to drown in his thoughts. 'I'm serious,' Spaghetti whispers, fingers tugging at his collar. Orange purses her lips, staring into the distance, 'how much of that is a lie?' Her tone is flat, causing a shiver to run up his spine. The redhead laughs humourlessly, tilting his head up just slightly, just enough for his eyes to be visible. 

Pudding feels his world shift and tilt at the soft look on Spaghetti's face, 'man, if I could lie to you about this... ' A wave of emotions roll through him; 'you're not serious about this at all,' he finds himself speaking. The duo jump, readying their weapons, Orange's staff charging up small flames while Spaghetti's giant fork balances dangerously in his fingers. Scowls adorn their faces. 

Orange takes a step forward, fire spilling from her cane, 'who are you to judge?' Summer breeze turns into winter ice as she bites out her words, 'you're not better, it's your fault Omurice is more reclusive than ever.' Pain crosses her face, contorting it to fit a weird mould, 'do you know how difficult it is to approach him now?' He blinks, unsure of what to say, but Spaghetti's lazy smirk draws his ire. 'What? Cat got your tongue?' He teased, twirling the fork around like a toy, 'to be honest, I need to thank you; your actions caused me to get closer to him, you know?' Orange sends him a warning glare, but the king continues, invading his personal space.  

'I told you, didn't I? I'll take him the moment he wants me to.' He smiles, dazzling and murderous, the light spilling onto his hair is a bloodbath, assaulting Pudding in all the wrong ways. There is something wrong with him, he concludes, why is his chest tightening up in pain? 'Why would you think Omurice would accept you?' There's emotion in his words, something he very rarely uses-- Pudding doesn't like where this is going. 

He shouldn't let his feelings get a hold of him. That's not how it worked.

She clips his collar with a burst of liquid fire, burning his cheeks. 'Don't go ignoring the main problem: you caused him to close himself off. Even Master Attendant is worried at this point. He's pushing himself beyond his limits and everyone is pressuring me to find out why and stop him from going too far.' Orange's nose crinkles up in disgust, 'even  _Nasi Lemak_ is bothering me about it. And that  _idol_ he likes so much. It's bothersome.' Anger sparks in his veins at the way she spoke of Jello, but it was smothered by the immense guilt sifting through his core. 

When he gives no reply, Spaghetti stabs his fork into the wall closest to him, almost tearing Jello's jacket into smithereens. He startles, glasses slipping off his face and clattering onto the floor, revealing lacklustre gold eyes, stuck in a loop. 'Don't look so pained, Mr Pudding,' Spaghetti mocks, 'you won't get any more points in this case. I won't stop her from hurting you anymore.' 

He knows what harm Orange can do for Omurice. He knows how powerful she is, how much havoc she can raise with that benign smile of hers. He has seen her in battle, has fought alongside her. 'I don't know, I don't know- ' he cuts himself off, searching for some logical answer to his turmoil. Spaghetti's weapon grazes his arm, breaking skin and drawing blood. She gnashes her teeth in anger, fury rising to the roof, 'answer me! Why did you force him so far back?!' 

Pudding is lost; torn between wanting to run away, and forcing himself to come to terms with himself.

 

'What's going on here?' Omurice's voice cracks halfway, confused and fearful. 'What are you doing? Orange?' She drops her staff, looking away in shame, 'Spaghetti?' He yanks his giant fork out of the wall, stepping behind Orange with a blank mask. Omurice runs to him, hands fretting over Pudding's wounds, cold fingers tilting his face to reveal a mottling burn mark. 

Omurice very nearly screams when he sees his bleeding arm, tearing his headband off and using it as a temporary bandage. 'What are you doing?' Pudding demands, pulling away from the grip, 'that's Jello's- ' 

'Shut up!' Omurice roars, using all his strength to force Pudding to stay still, 'I'll just rewash the headband after this, so shut up!' He gulps, feeling himself nod weakly,  _this isn't like him at all._ Orange takes a step forward, troubled, 'Omu, we're sorry, we didn't mean to hurt him... ' She trails off, biting back tears, the intensity of her little brother's glare keeping her at a distance. He winces, the headband is cutting off too much of his blood flow, but keeps quiet, noting the tremor in Omurice's shoulders, the jerky movements and skitterish fingers. 

When he's done, Omurice scowls, shielding Pudding from the other two. 'You promised. You  _promised,'_ he warbles, exasperated, 'you promised and you  _lied.'_ Spaghetti's mask slips for a millisecond, regret rising up before cool indifference sets back again. 'I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't pissed me so much, Omu.'  _Don't say it like you're pointing facts out, asshole._

Pudding's eyes widen,  _I should never have used such foul language!_ Something was wrong with him, it's affecting him in terrible, no good ways.

He was jealous, and he's got nowhere to run from that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much Pancake here:(( i'll bring him back next chapter! also, i will sell my soul to Hawthorne and Orange oof


	3. Contemplating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Omurice does something he's never done before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! this story is starting to look less like omupudding and more like those two figuring themselves out, huh? just to let you guys know, this fic may take a lot longer than i anticipated. thanks for sticking around!

The rising anger crashes like a wild tide, destroying any and all rationality in his mind, crumbling the walls he’s built up over the days into nothing. 

It feels shockingly  _ numb,  _ to lose all his morals and let his carnal  _ fury  _ take over. 

Spaghetti stares at him with something akin to hurt, lips pulled back in disappointment, skin pale. His lips part minutely, eyes searching Omurice’s face for a moment, shutting it seconds later; retreating into an air of cool. 

‘I apologise,’ he settles for those two words, detached and cold. ‘I should’ve known my limits.’ There’s something in the calculated apology that cuts him wrong as if Spaghetti was putting on an act -- and he was an unwilling participant. 

With a sharp turn, Spaghetti disappears into the corridors, a fine tremor going through him. 

Orange says nothing, her emotions clear as the sky above them.  _ I only wanted to protect you. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.  _ She, too, leaves, trailing after the king; her cane sprinkling flames onto the wood floors, dying embers burning holes onto the ground.

Omurice inhales, letting the air run into the gaps of his teeth and choke him.  _ Ah, so that’s what it was.  _ He returns his attention to the blond, who has yet to look him in the eyes once. 

Then, his headband came into view. Once a pristine, pure white; the cloth was now stained red and crusting from Pudding’s blood. It takes him a moment to let the scene sink in:  _ my headband is soaked in blood.  _

He needs to wash it. Clean it. Disinfect it. 

He needs to clear his head. 

He needs to make sure Pudding gets better.

 

Some part of him is still in a haze, trying to work everything out. 

Omurice thinks he leads Pudding to the little infirmary that the Attendant had built, talking to Plum Juice for a short while before watching him heal Pudding. 

The holes in Pudding’s arm close up slowly, blood flowing back into his flesh, and shrinking into nothingness. It’s uncomfortable to watch, bile rising up in the back of his throat. 

He thinks he does end up vomiting. 

Plum must’ve taken pity on him, handing him a drink, ‘breathe, Omurice. Step away for a while, drink this slowly.’ 

He nods, leaning dizzily against the wall and taking sips of the refreshing beverage at a time, waiting for the black diamonds in his vision to clear. 

There’s the sound of a shoe scuffing the ground before Pancake appears in his vision, warm hands steadying him. Relief blankets him, shielding him from the pain and confusion.

‘Hey,’ his friend whispers, rubbing soothing circles into his back, waiting patiently for Omurice to find his ground.

‘Hey,’ he croaks back, leaning into Pancake’s warmth. 

Everything seems easier like this, with Pancake by his side, talking about mindless nothings while he droopily hangs onto every word; imagining the busy restaurant, their regular customers, weird orders, the jokes. Pancake’s voice doesn’t waver, he recounts his day in a calm manner; unlike his usually bombastic self. 

It’s something Omurice can sink in. 

Something inside his heart aches, longing to go back to the days where he could run around the restaurant with glee, bantering with Pudding and shouting conversations to those in the kitchens. With how busy the restaurant is now, though, all those simple luxuries had no business in Omurice’s life. Master Attendant must be happy that their hard work has finally paid off, but... 

There’s nothing wrong with progress, he reasons, the hands of darkness slowly covering his eyes. Progress means growth, it means improvement. He finally succumbs to the darkness, dozing off on Pancake’s shoulders, his heart heavy.

Has he made any progress at all?

 

Omurice requests, albeit timidly, to be placed in the delivery team alongside Brownie, just a day after the incident. 

The Attendant had blinked curiously at him, a question on their lips, and for a moment he thought that he might get rejected. But they smiled, dazzling and light, agreeing and wishing him a safe trip, ushering him to the truck. 

‘Take care of them, Escargot!’ They yelled from the restaurant’s entrance, cheekily winking at the sleepy boy. Escargot frowns, shaking his head, but he does mumble an agreement in return. 

Omurice hasn’t been sent on deliveries in a while. Or rather, he wasn’t able to leave the restaurant to run a delivery in a while, with how fast business had picked up and how small the restaurant had become. Being away from serving tables was a refreshing break, hadn’t Jiuniang said he needed one? 

Taking a look around him, he sees Brownie climbing into the driver’s seat, Spicy Gluten by his side. He hasn’t interacted much with either of them, but he’s heard of how powerful and deadly Brownie’s weapon was -- there was no doubt that the man could defeat him instantly. Spicy Gluten had worked alongside him for about eight hours before being placed onto the delivery team permanently, her penchant for arguing with Boston made her an unreliable waitress. 

Both of them seem content, chatting idly while waiting for the rest. 

Long Bao walks up to him, handing him a cup of tea, ‘I don’t think we’ve ever talked before. Hello!’ He seemed pretty nice, comforting. Omurice smiles in reply, thanking the boy for the refreshment. 

‘I’m always stuck in the restaurant, sorry,’ he takes a careful sip, pleased to find that the liquid wasn’t scalding hot. Though the tea could have been made a little better, he likes it. ‘If you have time, you could come down and have a chat with us.’ 

Long Bao’s eyes light up, causing a ripple of satisfaction through him. 

Escargot mumbles for them to take their seats before they can drive off, stating that he wants the delivery done quickly. ‘Foie’s coming back from the catacombs soon, I wanna greet her when she gets back.’ Brownie’s lips quirk up slightly, hiding his amusement behind a gloved hand before he starts pulling away from the building.

Surreptitiously, Spicy Gluten whispers to him, ‘he’s been whining about Foie for  _ days  _ now, I think he’s starting to get angry.’ Omurice tamps down the urge to giggle, sharing a conspiratory look with Brownie.

He could get used to this. 

The drive to their destination was rather short, but it was enough time for Omurice to get to know more about this delivery team. 

‘Usually, B-52 would be in your place, but he’s gone off to the catacombs with Foie. It’s a good thing you volunteered to come along, otherwise, we’d have a mischievous and cranky Escargot in our hands!’ Long Bao teases, swatting away the pillow that attempted to suffocate him. The truck bursts out in laughter, with Brownie biting his lip in a last-ditch attempt to remain composed. 

Omurice gives them a crooked grin, ‘I missed doing deliveries.’ 

Escargot’s head bumps into his arm, ‘is it fun? In the restaurant? Spicy always complains about it being too hot.’ The boy seems content to curl up against Omurice, trying to stay awake. 

He hums, ‘the kitchens are hell to work in, especially if you’ve got Ochazuke or Hawthorne in there. Those two are scary during peak hours! Waiting tables could be really tiring the first time you do it, I guess? I like it there, though.’

Brownie’s eyes meet his through the rearview mirror, as if sensing a shift in his tone. ‘Is there anything troubling you, Omurice?’

A lump forms in his throat, stopping him from acknowledging the question. The whole delivery truck is quiet, watching him with wary looks and curious expressions. He flinches, hiding his face as best as he can with his hair, fiddling with the ends of his headband --  _ it wasn’t the one from before  _ \-- trying to will his vocal chords to  _ work.  _

Escargot yawns loudly, drawing attention away from him, ‘hey, hey, are we there yet?’ Brownie lets out a startled laugh, flustered, ‘ah, yes, we’ll be reaching in five minutes.’ The sleepy food soul nods, closing his eyes and snuggling into his pillow further. 

Omurice looks into the rearview mirror, trying to see how much of a mess he’s become, only to note that Brownie had mouthed an  _ I’m sorry  _ very apologetically in his direction. He returns a wobbly smile,  _ no, it’s okay.  _

Was he really okay, though?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry for the super short update TAT


	4. Analysing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dive into Pancake's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i died for about a year and then come back to spit this out. i'm sorry it's terribly short; my finals are in a few hours and my entire brain feels like it's falling out.

Pudding is unusually silent.

Not that he’d mind - it just meant that there was less… 

He’s not seeing the big picture, is he?

There’s something  _ off  _ with the way Pudding presented himself. There was an unusual stiffness building up in his shoulders, an odd tension coiling near the base of his spine. His steps are methodical, calculated. His words are clipped and his voice is unnervingly flat. There seems to be something stale in the air around him, any sort of thoughts dying out in his little bubble. 

There was a white ribbon tied to his wrist. 

Pancake isn’t one to question a great deal of things, but that white ribbon definitely didn’t belong to Pudding. And it seemed as though the man himself was unaware of his new accessory. 

‘Where’d you get that, Pudd?’ Pizza’s alarmingly loud voice shatters through his train of thought, startling him out of his hiding position under the buffet tables. Pancake swore that he’d tape Pizza’s mouth shut if he could, maybe honey could be a good adhesive.

Pudding doesn’t respond. How annoying. 

The topic is dropped as soon as it started, the blond being called away to deliver a new order while Pudding swaps shift with Daifuku. Pancake reckons he should follow suit, feeling rather stuffy under the table cloth.

As soon as he shuffles near the exit, a pale, red eye grounds him to dust. He curses, stumbling forward and landing awkwardly on his side.  _ Ah, might’ve broken something,  _ he absently thinks. Bloody Mary doesn’t stop staring, taking in his dishevelled appearance in honest curiosity. 

A slight head tilt to the right,  _ what were you doing?  _ Pancake mumbles out an answer, droning about being worked to the bone. Two blinks are all he gets in reply,  _ is hiding under there a good choice?  _

‘Well,’ he tries to explain, ‘sometimes… sometimes, you just want the world to leave you alone.’ Bloody Mary’s lips twitch minutely, a sign of recognition.  _ Thank you,  _ the albino turns away, floating out of the restaurant.

Pancake ignores Spaghetti’s questioning gaze as he stumbles towards the Arena. 

 

Sometimes, he thinks, the world doesn’t want to leave you alone. 

 

Boston’s obnoxious shouts draw his attention towards the white ribbon once again. It was near midnight, and the evening crowd had long dispersed. Their Attendant had since gone to bed, urging the others to do so as well. 

Coffee had taken over as the manager, dishing out every type of non-alcoholic beverage he can to anyone in need of a drink. There was a general murmur amongst the Food Souls, all of them looking warily at Pudding. Even Yellow Wine, ever the reclusive and brash, had pinned the man with a strange look as he sipped on his tea. 

‘You didn’t return it to him,’ Pancake breaks the troubled air, his voice sounding awfully foreign. ‘If you’re so hung up about him, then fucking  _ communicate.’  _ Ah, he snapped.

Sandwich tugs him to sit back down - since when was he standing? - shushing him with a panicked look on his face. The others, namely Tiramisu and Plum, try to get the room quiet while Pudding remains stone-faced and unmoving. 

‘What’s gotten into you?’ His friend hisses, ‘it’s already bad enough working with Pudding, please don’t do anything stupid!’

A slow, simmering heat builds up in the base of his throat. ‘Me?  _ Stupid?’  _ Pancake nearly howls, startling Sandwich. ‘If playing the fool will help in the grand scheme of events, then I will gladly be blind to everything!’ 

He very nearly pushes Jiuniang out of her seat, saved only by her brother, marching up to Pudding as the heat sparks up to a  _ burn.  _ ‘If keeping quiet and pretending that everything is absolutely fine, while not trying to hide anything and being so  _ painfully  _ open is what you wish to do - then fine, I shall be stupid.’ There’s a sadistic, cruel twist in his vowels, like he’s dripping some type of slow-acting venom. His arms shake as he tries not to snap Pudding in half, fingers clawing into his pants. ‘If seeing him absolutely miserable makes you happy, Pudding, I’ll kill you where you stand.’

He barely manages to throw the gauntlet before decking the bespectacled man in the face, throwing him meters across the floor. Milk screams, an earth-shattering sound, while Coffee tries to control the situation.

There is  _ no  _ situation. 

There is only a delusional puppet. 

Spaghetti stands up from his corner seat, the crystal teacup shattering onto porcelain floors. ‘That’s enough,’ there’s power in his words, as usual. But a hint of hesitance is all Pancake needs to decipher the true intent:  _ hurting him will hurt you more.  _

The King raises his weapon, separating the two with a steel barrier, ‘it’s late. We are all tired. Pancake, I understand that this has caused you much suffering and pain, but it cannot be settled in a place our Attendant has built.’  _ Don’t hurt yourself even more.  _

It’s ridiculous. Even his orders are rehearsed. 

The redhead doesn’t stand down, brandishing his weapon with the motive to strike if his order isn’t fulfilled. Foie and Steak, flanking both his sides, cast a glance at Pancake, silently urging him to put this case to rest.

He won’t.

Instead, he pushes the weakly held fork aside, walking into the directions of the rooms. ‘I mean it,’ he says the phrase like he’s uttering a prophecy, letting it resonate throughout the room with a finality. 

 

Sometimes, he concludes, you can’t run from the world.

  
  
  


He wishes he wasn’t as perceptive as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chewy, i'm sorry


	5. Cross Referencing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omurice comes face to face with the very thing he's hiding from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end.... is near?

Omurice is about to drift off when someone nudges his head. He makes a weird sound, both a grumble and a question, blinking away the sleep. He shakes his head, messing up his hair even more, before taking a proper look at his surroundings. 

The buildings in the area are packed against each other, forming one large massive wall in front of him. The delivery van is parked across a quaint, obscure building. Its walls are painted in an off-white, grimy and unpleasant to look at, the windows are weird and non-symmetrical, with dust layering the glass. Omurice frowns, uncomfortable, ‘our customers sure are weird.’

Brownie raises a finger to his lips, tipping his hat slightly. Begrudgingly, Omurice keeps the rest of his comments to himself. Not all of them are required to enter the building, given that there wasn’t a huge order, but Escargot is still napping (which begs the question: why was he woken up?) and Brownie was taking a break from driving. Long Bao volunteers to deliver, taking his hand and raising it for him. 

‘Wha- ‘ He’s about to protest, but stops himself. The whole reason he requested to leave the restaurant was so he could stretch his legs and have a breather, he  _ should  _ be the one making the delivery. Orange had said that it would be good to meet new people. He closes his mouth, taking half of the order from Spicy’s hands, following Long Bao as they cross the road. 

He knocks on the pale wood door, taking a closer look at the building itself. It… didn’t look as bad as he thought it was, everything about this place was meant to be  _ odd.  _ The door had a weird pattern that was just weird to look at, making him cross-eyed every few seconds. The windows, which he thought was super dirty, was just tinted very heavily. Even the paint on the walls were intentionally coated with grime. 

Long Bao greets the person at the door, and Omurice is startled to see a Pudding lookalike. Similarly shaded golden eyes blink curiously at them both, a confused smile on his face. ‘Hello,’ the lookalike greets, hiding behind the door, ‘can I help you… ?’ 

Omurice is frozen in place, not expecting him to have the exact  _ same voice  _ as Pudding. He’s never heard it… without malice or irritation before. If Pudding spoke in the exact soft-spoken, pleasantly polite and kind way as this man did… then… 

He’s cut off abruptly as Long Bao introduces them, telling the man that they’re here to drop off a delivery. 

‘Delivery?’ The man echoes, even more perplexed, ‘I don’t think anyone… Oh!’ He snaps in his fingers, shoulders loosening, ‘my roommate must’ve done it! Gods, why can’t she just tell me?’ He groans, sheepishly apologising for being so rude. 

Omurice, flustered, hurries to blurt out, ‘it’s not your fault!’ The man jumps, eyes widening. ‘It must be irritating, to be in the shadows, having to help someone even though you’re not obligated to.’ A lump is stuck in his throat, something akin to a ball of honey, a thick and sugary coating stuck against his windpipe. Feeling the need to resolve the awkward air, he smiles brightly, ‘here’s your order! We’re sorry we didn’t call beforehand to check if the recipient is around!’ 

Long Bao chimes in as well, laughing in embarrassment as he apologises. The man turns red, flailing his arms around in an attempt to control the situation. ‘It’s alright! Sorry! I’m just… not… very… good with people,’ his voice gets softer as he goes on, fingers fidgeting with the ends of his shirt, ‘it’s a wonder that my roommate’s still with me. She could’ve, y’know, just left and found her own place. Her company even gave her an apartment closer to the office, but she rejected it because of me.’ 

‘In a way, I feel like I’m dragging her down.’

The words strike a chord within him, stinging a hot white. 

His mouth feels dry, all of a sudden. He swallows, trying to find a word to reply with. Long Bao gives him a look, stepping forward to continue the conversation in his stead. The twp of them talk amicably as the man proceeds to pay and sign some mandatory forms, transitioning into more common topics like the happenings in town. 

As they turn to leave, a girl runs into the apartment, dyed hair flinging wildly as she shouts the man’s name. ‘The delivery! Did it arrive?!’ She pants, gulping down water ferociously. ‘Yeah, I received them a moment ago,’ he pauses briefly, as if contemplating his words, ‘could you inform me if you’re going to do this again? I embarrassed myself in front of the delivery team… ‘ 

The girl flushes slightly, ‘sorry! I left a note on your desk this morning, did you not see it?’ The two of them get into a semi-heated conversation, with the man turning redder and redder with each passing second. It’s weird, to see someone with Pudding’s face look so… smitten? 

A gap materialises under Omurice’s feet as realisation sinks in. He’s  _ seen  _ Pudding wear that face before. Bitter defeat threatens to spill from his lips, and he runs off towards the delivery van, desperately trying to forget what he just saw (what he’s seen before).

Escargot is awake when he stumbles into the van, pale and sweaty. The poor boy looked absolutely gobsmacked, retreating further into the vehicle when Omurice clambers in. ‘Omu..rice?’ He doesn’t respond, curling up into a ball, trying to shut the world out. 

Something shifts beside him, and he’s unsure if that’s Long Bao or someone else, he doesn’t really care. The van’s engine starts, sputtering slightly (he would bring this up to the Attendant later), and they’re off -- leaving behind the odd building and its odd occupants. 

A gloved hand rests atop his head, ruffling his hair. ‘That’s alright,’ Brownie’s soft voice drifts in the space between them, ‘you’re getting there, Omurice.’ His glasses smear with tears, shoulders shaking. He bites his lip, trying to make himself seem as small as possible, he doesn’t want the attention right now. He just wants to go  _ home.  _

He wants to go home to his Lady, he doesn’t want this anymore.

He’s  _ not  _ okay. He hasn’t improved at all. What a disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [tumblr!](https://yellow-wine.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> please, love omupudding with me on [tumblr.](https://yellow-wine.tumblr.com)


End file.
